


A Simple, Easy Change

by MyckiCade



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Childhood, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyckiCade/pseuds/MyckiCade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to go back to last year, when things were okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple, Easy Change

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Gotham. I am not that clever. This work is for fan enjoyment only. No infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: What is it with me, and the cutesy stuff, with this ship?! *just chuckles*.

He huddled inside the cement tunnel, as fast as he could. It was pointless to hope that those fourth graders – Chuckie and Daniel, he thought were their names – hadn't seen him dart across the playground. They were going to find him, and make good on yesterday's promise to break his nose. There was no stopping them, either. He had nothing to offer them, in exchange for their mercy. Tears began to well up in his eyes, at the thought. He had no chance. He was finished. Done for. All because a couple of schoolyard bullies didn't like the way an innocent little first grader parted his hair. How he dressed. The shape of his nose.

Tucking his knees up to his chest, Oswald wrapped his arms around them, and buried his face from sight. Oh, Mother was going to be so upset. There would be blood all over the front of  _another_ of his nice school shirts, and dirt on his pants. Rips, stains, they were becoming so commonplace in his everyday... Scrapes, bruises, all of the same... What had he done to deserve it? Why couldn't they just pick on someone else? Even if it was for one day.

Those tears began to slip down his cheeks, and, before he knew it, Oswald was in a fit of sobs. It wasn't  _fair._ He used to  _like_ coming to school, and being out at recess. They'd had their own playground, last year, all of the kids his own age. His teacher in Kindergarten, she'd been so nice. She'd read them stories, and given them snacks and juice boxes before their naps. And, when someone was mean to someone else, they'd go in time out. Oswald was never mean to anybody, so, why did they have to be mean to him? Hadn't  _their_ Kindergarten teachers taught  _them_ how to be nice to each other?

He wanted to go back to last year, when things were okay.

He wanted to go  _home,_ where he didn't have to worry about who was going to steal his juice boxes from his cubbie, or stomp on his lunch bag, and crush the homemade chocolate chip cookies his mother had packed him. Tie his shoelaces together, so he couldn't participate in gym class. Break his crayons. He'd had a fresh pack of crayons, his first day of school, this year. They were scented, too. He was so proud of them... He'd managed to save two. Sarah Maradu had seen to it that he didn't get to keep the others.

She didn't seem to enjoy it when he had  _anything._

Somewhere along his line of thought, Oswald had started bawling. It was probably the reason why didn't hear anyone slide up to the tunnel, beside him, until it was too late.

“Are you okay?”

Oswald let out a startled yelp, jerking his head up to get a look at who had found him. It wasn't Chuckie, or Daniel, thank goodness. No, it was a blonde boy, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. Oswald recognized him, somewhat. He was a third-grader, from the classroom down the hall. For a minute, Oswald said nothing, instead cringing back, and sniffling. The other boy rolled his eyes.

“I said, are you okay?”

Bottom lip trembling, Oswald shook his head. “N-No,” he hiccuped, reaching up to wipe at his eyes, with the heel of his hand. He watched the boy, who was crouched down at the opposite end of the tunnel. “A-Are you here to beat me up, too?”

“Beat you up?” the boy repeated, one eyebrow raised. “Heck, no. Somebody threatened to beat you up?”

Oswald nodded. “Yeah... You should prob'ly go. They'll be over here, soon.”

The boy didn't budge. “What's your name?” he asked, instead.

“Oswald,” he replied, without hesitation. Silly, as Mother had always taught him  _not_ to give his name to strangers. This boy, though... He looked like someone Oswald could trust, someone that Mother would even approve of. “Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.”

“Huh,” he boy said, simply. He blinked, twice, before shaking his head. “That's a long name.” Oswald looked down at his legs, again, fearing he'd given this boy a reason to make fun of him, too. He wouldn't be the first to think his name was funny, after all. “Well, I'm Jimmy Gordon.” Again, Oswald looked up, in time to see Jimmy slide into the tunnel. Jimmy sat down, beside him, but turned to face his way. “So, who's been threatening to beat you up, Oz? Can I call you Oz?”

Nearly stunned to silence, it took a moment for Oswald to realize that he'd been asked a question. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that sounds cool.” He smiled, widely, despite himself. Jimmy smiled back.

“Well, Oz, you point out the kid that's giving you trouble.”

“What for?” Oswald asked. “I can't tell. They'll get mad.”

“More than one, huh?” Jimmy nodded his head, slowly. “Well, some of the ones around here can be real jerks. My Mom says to ignore 'em, 'cause, that's how the whole world is. 'Specially, here in Gotham.” Sighing, Jimmy reached over toward Oswald, who immediately flinched back. Jimmy quickly held up his hands. “Not gonna' hurt ya'. I promise.” Oswald eyed him, warily, for a moment, before nodding. Slowly, carefully, Jimmy reached back toward Oswald, brushing his thumb over the tear-tracks on the smaller boy's face. “I don't believe her, though. Not  _everybody_ can be so mean. There's  _gotta'_ be good people out there,  _somewhere,_ I think.”

A small, hopeful little smile tugged at the corner of Oswald's lips. “You really think so?” he asked, quietly. Oh, for that to be true. He wished they'd all move here, then, and help defend kids like him against the bullies.

Jimmy just smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Another response was on the tip of Oswald's tongue, when he heard the voice he'd been dreading.

“Cobblepot!”

Oswald cringed, instantly, and squeezed his eyes shut. It was Daniel, he knew from the slight slur of speech caused by the boy's missing front tooth. It had been knocked out by his older brother, the other kids said. When he'd heard that, at the beginning of the year, Oswald had felt sorry for the boy. He really didn't, anymore.

“Is that him?” Jimmy asked, and Oswald nodded, without opening his eyes.

“One of 'em...” he admitted, sadly. Just when he thought he  _might_ get away, without a mark. Sniffling, just once, Osward prepared himself to slide out of the tunnel, and face the music. Before he could move a muscle, thought, he felt a brush of fabric against his shins, and heard the scraping of shoes against the cement. Oswald opened his eyes, again, just in time to see Jimmy standing to his full height, as Daniel and Chuckie headed their way.

“Outta' the way, Gordon,” Daniel spoke up. “Get out here, Crybaby!”

Jimmy didn't budge. “Go away, Daniel,” he ordered, sternly. Oswald thought he was crazy, talking to a fourth-grader, like that.  _A fourth-grader!_ Not to mention, one so much bigger than he was! “I ain't gonna' let you hurt him.”

“Aw, would ya' lookit, Chuck?” Daniel continued. “The Crybaby made a new friend.”

Beside Daniel, Chuckie snickered. “What's a'matter, Gordon? Got tired of looking after the girls, and decided to move on to the smaller losers?”

“It's funny you say that, Chuckie,” Jimmy started, “since I heard about your Dad getting arrested, last night.” Oswald couldn't see much more than Chuckie's shoes, but he could picture the angry look on the boy's face. “Talk about a loser.”

“You keep talkin', Gordon!” Chuckie yelled. “You think you're so big and mighty, just 'cause  _your_ Daddy's a  _cop?”_

Jimmy snickered. “Better than an alchie.” Oswald had no idea what that meant, but, it couldn't have been anything good. Especially not with how Chuckie was shifting from foot to foot. He'd seen the older boy do that, before, just before he slugged Timmy Tomlin in the face, breaking the smaller kid's glasses in two. Oswald didn't want that to happen to Jimmy, not because of him.

Just when it looked like a fight was going to break out, for real, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the recess period. Oswald was relieved, if still a little bit scared.

“You wait, Gordon,” Daniel threatened, as the two bullies backed away from the tunnel. “You're next.”

“Yeah, I'm shaking.” Despite the rest of the kids moving back toward the entrance to the school, Jimmy stood his ground. He waited until the other two were gone, before kneeling down beside the entrance to the tunnel, once again. Oswald watched him with wide, impressed eyes. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen. A boy he barely knew had not only stood up to  _two_ boys,  _older_ than him, but... Jimmy had stood up for  _him._ No one had ever bothered to do that, before. Yet, here was Jimmy, smiling at him as if he didn't have a care in the world for what he'd done. “You okay?”

Oswald nodded, quickly. “Th-Thank you, Jimmy.”

“Eh...” Jimmy's cheeks went pink. “It was the right thing to do, you know?” He looked back to the school building, before standing up, again. “Come on.” He held his hand down to Oswald, who blinked at it, surprised. “I'll walk you back to class.”

“Really?” Oswald asked, grasping the older boy's hand as tightly as his fingers would allow. Jimmy pulled him to his feet, brushing a hand over the back of Oswald's jacket. “Thanks...”

“Hey, don't mention it.” Resting an arm across Oswald's shoulders, Jimmy wrapped his fingers around the boy's shoulder, protectively. “I don't like bullies. You don't deserve to be picked on.”

Once again, Oswald felt his eyes fill with tears. This time, however, instead of sobs, they were accompanied by a bright smile. It stayed with him, all of the way to the classroom door. He waved to Jimmy, who watched Oswald until he was settled at his desk, before disappearing down the hallway. The day proceeded as normal, from there. A couple of the other kids called him names, and Sarah tried to take his favourite pen. For once, he didn't let it get to him. It was just business, as usual.

When Mother came to pick him up from school, Oswald ran to her, his bright smile still in place. He handed her a picture he'd drawn during art period, two stick people playing by the playground tunnel, and told her all about his new friend, Jimmy.

 


End file.
